


Chiaroscuro

by lemoninagin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Body Worship, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, First Time, Glove Kink, Lace Panties, Lance being so thirsty he might as well be on the verge of dying from dehydration, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sexual Tension, Stiletto Heels, Stockings, aka Keith just gets fucking wrecked, alien wedding lingerie, don't ask just accept it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemoninagin/pseuds/lemoninagin
Summary: “Did I,” Lance says carefully, feeling like he’s wading through a pool made of jello, like his ears are filled with the chimes of so many impending warning bells of doom, “Did I really just convince Keith to wear a skimpy post-marital alien lingerie outfit around the castle all day?”





	1. Light

It starts as a stupid joke, ends as a nightmare.

Lance is helping Allura with some chores around the ship, paired off with Keith and Pidge, when it happens.

Hunk, Shiro, and Coran are away on a nearby mission, scouting a planet for resources, looking to find food or supplies or some important shit like that, Lance isn’t sure as he hadn’t really been paying attention. His focus had been on watching Keith while he zoned out when Allura explained more detailed instructions earlier.

It’s something he’s been doing a lot more of lately, eyes drawn to the littlest things about Keith, from the gentle curve of his rare smile to the wave of his pretty hair as it fans out wildly when he fights.

Well, they _have_ been officially dating for a few weeks now, so he supposes that’s only natural.

But there are things—many, many things they haven’t done yet, certain stuff they’d only gone so far with physically, and Lance couldn’t help but feel distracted as his attraction continued rising without a whole lot of relief.

Which is why, at the moment, he finds himself preoccupied with watching as Keith bends over to wipe the floor, can’t tear his gaze away when that rounded, tight little ass poises itself high in the air. It almost looks like it’s taunting him, wriggling out of spite as if it knows that he can’t just walk over there and grab it, or maybe do something more devious to it.

“Lance!” Allura’s voice scolds him, because oh yeah, they’re supposed to be cleaning or something. She's plopping a large box of things down in front of him, where he’s literally just been sitting on the floor Keith-watching for who knows how long. “Since you’re so keen on ignoring your cleaning duties for the day, I am going to assign you to go through these boxes and sort out the items. Please try to at least be able to do that.”

Shaking his head of the various dirty thoughts that have instantly infiltrated his mind, Lance stares around him, having been so immersed in watching Keith’s ass shake that he hadn’t noticed Allura surrounding him with a ton of the same large boxes over time.

“What? But that will take forever!” Lance whines, and Pidge throws a rag at him from her position nearby. It smacks him directly in the face, and he splutters, pulling the dirty thing off and flinging it to the ground.

The nerve of some people, honestly.

“Lance, shut the hell up. We’ve been doing all this grunt work while you’ve been doing absolutely jack shit because you’re too damn busy staring at Keith. You’ve no right to complain,” she says a little too loudly, walking closer to inspect the boxes.

At the mention of his name, Keith sits back on his knees, a little out of breath from scrubbing, and wipes the sweat from his brow as he peers over at them. “Hey, did one of you just call me?”

Pidge opens her mouth, but Lance claps a hand over it before the little turd can say anything else that might prevent him from getting farther than second base tonight.

“Nope, we were only talking about how I’m going to sort through these boxes, yup. Nothing weird going on over here at all.”

“Oh, okay then.”

Keith accepts the bullshit explanation easily, gets up and stretches with his arms to the ceiling. Lance’s gaze is drawn to the small peek of his toned, bare stomach, moves to the ‘v’ lines right above his waist that disappear to unknown territory he would be more than happy to explore right then.

Keith joins them as well, head peeking inside one of the boxes. “Whoah, what is all this stuff, Princess?”

“Very old belongings from the past residents of the castle,” she explains, lifting the lid off a container and pulling out a few items to inspect them. “I expect you all to be very careful with them, they are officially ancient relics.”

Inside the containers, there’s a myriad of strange garments and papers, objects with an unnecessary amount of sides and symbols on them. Some are glowing, some make bizarre noises when she grabs them, and Lance steps back, a little disturbed at what he might find.

“Awesome, vintage Altean stuff, super cool.” Pidge whistles as she admires the things, rummaging through a box idly. She leaps away as if burned after she picks up a fluffy, furby looking thing that squawks at her. “Yeah, on second thought, you know what? I think I’m gonna stick with bathroom duty.”

Allura nods. “Yes, well, I think Lance will have a fun time tackling this on his own, won’t you Lance?”

Lance grunts, annoyed, poking at an extremely pointy 70-sided die with disinterest. If he was being honest, he’d really rather be jumping Keith’s bones.

“Huh,” Keith speaks up, and goddamn, what is with him and bending over today. He’s leaning into the one box Allura got Lance’s attention with, digging through the stuff without any hint of fear in him. “There’s a lot of funky clothes in this one.”

“Mmm,” Allura hums, “These are from the lower quarters, when the castle used to be filled with guests. I suppose they were their most important possessions, of course.”

Lance’s hearing is fading as he watches Keith’s ass wiggle back, and then he stands on his toes to lean so far in that his shirt slides towards his chest. Lance isn’t so sure how much more of this he can handle, calculating in his head all the angles he could possibly work to make up a bullshit excuse to blindside Allura so he can take Keith somewhere more private.

He only comes back to reality when he notices Keith is pulling some frilly, lacy looking thing out, fingers smoothing over the fabric curiously.

“The hell are these?” Keith grunts, sifting the strange, fluid folds of it between his palms.

“Oh,” Allura laughs, flushes so subtly Lance isn’t sure he saw it. “Those are garments we used to use in the performance of a...sacred, important ritual.”

Keith unravels the bunch of it to really get a good look, oddly hung up on the thing for some reason. Everyone looks on at the reveal—Pidge puts a hand to her mouth and says ‘oh my’ with a huge grin, Lance audibly gulps, Allura smiles, but then flicks her gaze downwards bashfully.

In one of Keith’s hands, for lack of a better term, is a red and black slutty number with so many pieces of lace, frills, and silky looking strappy things, it must have come straight from a truly out-of-this-world alien porno.

From what Lance can make out of it, there are a few parts—something that looks like lacy stockings, a shirt so tiny it could have been tailored for a child, and some kind of…skirt thing with long slits up the sides. With his other hand, Keith snags another item from the box that had been poking up near it, gripping what is clearly a pair of clunky glowing boots with high, high pointy heels.

“Uh…” Keith clears his throat, pinpricks of red rising in his cheeks. “Well.”

“What in the world kind of ritual are we talking about here, Princess?” Pidge snorts under her breath, and Lance jabs her in the side, because he sure as hell does not want to know, mind already wandering to what Keith might look like in the gaudy thing.

It’s then that he gets _the_ idea, an awful idea, a terrible idea.

An idea so horrible and stupid, of course he tries to pull it off, because why the fuck not? What could it hurt to try?

It’s not like this is going to work. It'll be a joke, merely a funny bet, he tells himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

“All cards out on the table here, but you know what? I kinda like it,” Lance finds himself blurting out against his better judgment, morbid curiosity completely out of control today, much like his raging hormones. “It looks pretty comfy.”

Keith stares at him as if he has three heads. He rolls his eyes. “Are you serious? There is nothing about this that screams ‘comfy’ here. You’re insane.”

Lance crosses his arms, tips his chin up haughtily.

“Hmm, figures you would say that! I bet you couldn’t last two seconds wearing something like that anyway, mullet,” Lance teases, because he really can’t help himself, really isn’t able to comprehend the possible consequences of it all, which lead to some of the longest, most insufferable hours of his entire life simply because of his impulsive need to say stupid shit. “Beauty is pain, and someone like you, who like an animal doesn’t even moisturize their face everyday, wouldn’t understand, I suppose.

“Oh yeah?” Keith sniffs, pointing the heels of the stilettos towards him like a javelin. “Bet you I could!”

“Haha, yeah, sure, sure.” Lance waves a hand flippantly. “If you manage to wear it for the _whole_ day,” he continues taunting without really thinking about it, because he is such a fucking fool, “Then I’ll wear it for _two_.”

He flips up two fingers and waggles them, relishes in the look of utter stubborn fury on Keith’s face as he clenches the cloth between his fists. It’s honestly unfair how hot he can be looking like that.

Keith stares him down, jabs one heel roughly at his chest. “You’re on, _pretty boy_.”

And with that, Keith turns, stalking off down the hall to apparently go put the outfit on.

“Oh my god,” Pidge gasps, and then she’s laughing while Allura watches on, still seemingly confused. “I can’t believe that’s a thing that just happened, holy fuck.”

“Oh ho, do you really think I’m pretty, baby?” Lance calls after him, eyes glued to the sway of his hips and ass. He catcalls loudly at his retreating back then, and Keith flips him off.

“No!” Comes Keith’s curt response, not turning around and only keeping his middle finger pointed high in the air before he disappears around the corner.

Whatever, he isn’t going to take it personally. Lance knows he loves him. It isn’t until the sound of Keith’s footsteps begin to fade away, though, that Lance really, _really_ starts to think over the events that occurred.

“I don’t understand,” Allura cuts through the silence after Lance realizes the gravity, the true horror of what he’s done, “That’s a traditional wedding ceremony outfit. What in the world is Keith planning on doing with them?”

Pidge is choking, cackling with such deep laughter now that Lance is almost afraid she might stop breathing. Allura cocks her head, waiting for some explanation of what human bets are, but neither of them are able to answer her.

“Did I,” Lance says carefully, feeling like he’s wading through a pool made of jello, like his ears are filled with the chimes of so many impending warning bells of doom, “Did I really just convince Keith to wear a skimpy post-marital alien lingerie outfit around the castle all day?”

He feels like he should be happier about the whole thing, about how awesome he is for actually pulling that off, but a foreboding wave washes over him. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck. If a song had been playing at that time, the only thing appropriate would have been the _Jaws_ theme.

“Hell yeah you did, man, good fucking luck.”

Pidge wipes tears from her eyes, pats him on the back, then prepares to leave with Allura to go clean the bathrooms. Allura shrugs, turning to Lance before she goes, says something or other about not moving from that spot until he organizes at least three boxes.

Lance watches them leave, not caring about having to sift through all this creepy stuff, not caring about the threat of punishment that he doesn’t remember two seconds after Allura tells him. He’s frozen in place, pants feeling tighter simply from thinking about it all.

He stands there for a long time, not doing anything but internally panicking and trying in vain to prepare for the shitstorm inevitably about to follow. He only starts paying attention again, tongue so unbelievably fat in his mouth, when he hears an unusual, uneven _tap, tap, tapping_ against the floor indicating Keith’s return.

“...Fuck.”

 

* * *

 

Torture doesn’t even begin to cover what Lance has to endure for the rest of the day. At every turn, Keith seems to be there, flaunting, bending over, stretching, traipsing around like he owns the goddamn place.

Revenge, Lance thinks. Cold, harsh, cruel, gay revenge. Revenge, because this is Keith, and he can’t let things go, ever. To him, this is only another challenge, another thing he’s successful in to rub in Lance’s face. He has no idea about the perverted truth that lies beneath Lance’s provocation, and yet—

“See something you like?”

Keith’s grin is shit-eating, sexy, beautiful, and obnoxious, a confusing package wrapped all in one that has only added to the weight of Lance’s dick standing at attention for what has to be a solid thirty minutes now. He contemplates if that’s normal, wonders if he can possibly die from the lack of blood flowing to his brain, worries that his dick might be stuck like this permanently.

“...no,” Lance pouts.

Keith bends over again, slowly, painstakingly, to pick up one of the relics and place it in a pile. He drags his fingers purposefully along his stocking clad legs as he curls up and straightens his back, which are black with blotches of red—like blood red stars in a pitch black sky of perversion. They’re almost like, what’s the word— _f_ _ishnets_ , Lance concludes, thinking back to when he once horrifyingly stumbled upon his older sister’s girly collection of sexy things accidentally.

“You sure?”

Lance wants to say something like ‘that is not how you organize vintage alien items, Keith’, but he can’t seem to say anything other than one word responses, losing an impressive amount of brain cells by the minute.

“No.”

The material that’s hanging so low on Keith’s hips it might as well not be there at all, is as Lance guessed it, some form of Altean skirt. It has two small, squarish flaps that only barely cover his ass and crotch, large slits on either side revealing the curves of his muscular, thick thighs.

Lance wants to put his head between them. He wants to bite and suck on them, wants to feel them firmly wrap around his neck.

Dear god.

Lance scowls deeply, pulls his hood up and tries to yank it over his probably tomato-red face. He can’t focus, he can’t breathe, and he sure as hell can’t organize these damn boxes of weird-ass sort-of-sentient-maybe stuff that keeps yowling at him and exploding without any warning.

“You alright?” Keith sashays over with such a lewd sway to his hips, that Lance almost comes in his pants right there. He waves a concerned hand in front of Lance’s face, but remains smug. “You look kinda sick.”

Squatting further down in front of him, Lance wills himself to ignore the fact he can clearly see his underwear - which is red and lacy, barely covering anything, clinging so tightly there's the unmistakable impression of a ‘yup-that's-definitely-a-dick and-balls’ bulge practically staring Lance in the face. It leaves hardly anything to the imagination, and yet, there are about a million porny scenarios Lance is creating in his head then.

“No.”

Keith sighs, straightens back up. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, dude. I guess you were wrong, huh?” He sticks out one of his legs, caressing one hand from his upper thigh to his calf as it raises, and waggles his heeled boot. “I can rock this, I can deal with wearing this outfit, and you can’t handle that I was right.”

Keith can’t even begin to comprehend what about the outfit Lance can’t handle, seemingly blissfully unaware of the sexual connotation of it all, even with all his sensual teasing.

He thinks this is a joke. Little does he know, Lance is the actual butt of the joke here.

Lance’s stomach lurches, his head spins. Those legs are more elongated than usual, so pale and firm in what he can make out of the flesh being hugged beneath the lace, and they seem to go on for days with those heels, which—curse all that is sacred—double as knee high boots that are glowing a faint red, with complex buckles and straps that wrap around them snugly.

Keith’s torso is completely exposed, baring a set of washboard abs, and Lance doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to wear the other piece that’s like a pinched crop top. It sticks tight over his chest, but is wide at the neck, so that it hangs off both of his broad shoulders. It has frills at the end of the sleeves with silvery chains that hang down to his elbows, is silky and black except for the stripes of red on the sides. There’s a matching choker thing with a bright, red gem attached around his neck, only accentuating the elegant slope of it.

Lance has never been gayer in his life than he has in that moment.

“You’re dumb,” Lance rasps, because he has no idea what else to say anymore.

Keith’s grin grows wider. “That’s the best you can do, really?”

“No.”

Lance doesn’t continue, only lets that hang there, and he is greatly aware of Keith’s searching eyes on him. He doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s probably scrunching his nose in that adorable way he does when he’s confused about something.

To flip his attention to anything else since speaking clearly isn’t doing him any favors, Lance pulls out a light, miniscule, metal ball from the box that feels almost like liquid between his fingers. He’s inspecting it closely, trying to ignore Keith creeping closer to check it out, when the thing expands to three times its size out of nowhere. Yelping, Lance launches it as far across the room as he can. Throwing it must have hit some control, because when it lands, a giant holographic map explodes above them, projecting seemingly everywhere. It’s some charter displaying only types of moons from whatever unknown galaxy it may be a part of, so the light that engulfs them is glaringly bright.

Keith is laughing, the jerk. Lance loves his stupid laugh.

And then, as per his usual when Keith laughs, Lance makes the mistake of looking over at him.

The false collective moonlight is playing pretty swatches over his skin, over his outfit, making it look like he’s glittering. There’s sparkles in his eyes, his hair, over that lean, smooth navel and in between the gaps in his stockings. Speaking of his hair, his bangs are pulled back with some glitzy matching red headband that has an attached veil trailing to the nape of his neck, which is reflecting everything there tenfold. The only thing that gives Lance some sort of petty comfort is that he’s pretty sure Keith’s wearing the thing backwards.

“Urk,” Lance squeaks unintelligently.

“Oh,” Keith breathes, raising his head, outlining his features in light and shadow so intricate that it’s like he’s jumped straight out of a chiaroscuro painting. He leans against one of the boxes to stare more easily, pupils following the paths of the rotating moons. “It’s kinda romantic, isn’t it?”

“No.”

Keith chuckles, side-eyeing him.  “Say, do you think you’re prettier than me right now?”

“No.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Lance. Can I not borrow your jacket for the next week?”

“No.”

“Nice. That’s so thoughtful of you to lend it out to me. Also, you wouldn’t want to go on that mission you were assigned tomorrow with Shiro, would you?”

“No.”

Lance blinks, shakes his head, trying to break away from the spell of mesmerizing, provocative, picturesque Keith. “Wait, what?”

“Cool, thanks. I was thinking I could go in your place, and you could be on cleaning duty instead, so that’s perfect you agree. You’re a really great boyfriend, you know that?”

Then Keith is pulling himself away from the box, getting down on the floor and fucking _crawling_ over to him on his hands and knees. Lance guesses his feet are probably hurting him, because he's doing it more in his typical Keith fashion, innocent and unaware of how sensual it is —which is making everything much, much worse. Lance’s whole body tenses, his erection feels like it’s going to rocket off into space.

Keith flips Lance’s hood back down, gives him a chaste peck on the cheek, then sits back on his knees and smooths his palms over his chest. “By the way, since you’re letting me borrow it, how do you think your jacket would look with this outfit?”

“ _No._ ” Lance’s eyes widen, mouth stuck in the syllable of ‘oh’, pleading to be released from this Utter Hell.

His jacket with _t-that_? Holy shit. God, _no, no, no, no_!

Keith must be getting tired of not being able to provoke any other response, because he frowns, starts scowling. “You’re being a real jerk, you know that? Just because I won this whole thing, doesn’t mean you need to be a big baby about it and give me this half-assed almost-silent treatment.”

“No.” Lance smacks his hand to his forehead, willing his lips to form words that would actually make sense, but it’s too late. “F-fuck, I mean, that’s not what I mea—”

“Whatever, fuck you, too, Lance.”

Lance watches numbly as Keith takes off in a huff, as things jiggle and swing around in ways that have his fingers flexing reflexively at the air to grab. Keith bolts out of the room, stumbling a little as he struts with his fists clenched, nose in the air, mumbling about how he’s an asshole under his breath.

Lance whimpers quietly to the empty room, “Yes.”

 

* * *

 

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover what dinner that night is like.

The reaction of the rest of the crew upon seeing Keith has been varied, some responding in shock, some laughing, but overall acting with this weird ambivalence, which Lance doesn’t get at all. How the hell anyone can act like a sight like that isn’t distracting, is beyond him.

“Whoah, d-dude,” Hunk stutters, reeling back when he comes through the door of the kitchen. It takes him a moment to collect himself, before he very maturely states, “I mean, I’m not gonna judge if you’re into that sort of thing, but like. Why?”

“Lance is a dick,” is all Keith responds with venomously, pushing his veil back to keep it from falling into his bowl. Lance continues pouting into his food goo.

“Oh,” Hunk accepts, apparently too preoccupied with his stomach to want to venture down that rabbit hole. He looks apologetically to Lance, which Lance highly appreciates. “Sorry, dude. You’re in the doghouse right now, aren’t you?”

Lance pushes his lip further out, nodding pathetically.

Keith snorts. “Don’t feel sorry for him, he did this to himself.”

As much as Lance wants to protest that, he has to admit truer words have never been spoken.

All Shiro is doing is pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing so much that Lance wonders if he’s planning to make a hobby out of it. Immediately, he is acting like a dad. “Keith, go change out of that hideous thing right now.”

Keith glares at him, pushes a huge scoop of goo into his mouth and sloppily wipes away the lingering remnants from his lips.

“No,” he says indignantly. “I have to wear it for a few more hours to prove how wrong Lance is about everything.”

Shiro raises a suspicious eyebrow at Lance, crosses his arms. Lance sinks further into his seat.

“So Lance convinced you to wear that, huh?” he asks dryly.

Shit. It’s like everyone knows the reason behind his intentions except for Keith. Lance wants to escape from their judging eyes, needs to really go back to his room and jerk off for an indiscernible amount of time to try and make this all go away.

“No!” Keith grits, dropping his spoon. “It’s a bet that I _chose_ to participate in!”

Shiro puts placating hands in front of him, deciding to drop it, but his reprimanding warning glare towards Lance practically screams ‘we are so going to have a talk about this on our mission tomorrow’.

In the background, Pidge hasn’t even been eating, has only been laughing for the entire time.

This is the worst day ever.

“Well, I for one think congratulations are in order!” Coran interjects happily, as if there is nothing weird about this at all. “I didn’t realize you all decided to make it so official. I’m impressed by how mature you two are being about stepping up your commitment to one another!”

Lance makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He completely forgot Keith had no idea what that outfit’s purpose even was.

“Huh?” Keith’s snooty expression falls. “What do you mean?”

“Y-You’re,” Pidge chokes, speaking up for the first time since she came in, “You’re wearing some sort of fucking Altean honeymooning lingerie, oh my god hahahaha!”

Keith flushes, eyes widening, turning his worried expression to Allura to confirm it. She nods solemnly, but now Hunk is laughing a little, too, Shiro is smiling through his exasperation. Lance is glad to see there’s a bit of an upper hand he can get back on the situation.

“Yes, I assumed you knew, Keith, by the way you’ve been wearing it throughout the day as per tradition.” Coran elbows him jovially in the side. “Have you two done the arkavian yet? It’s pretty essential to sealing the deal!”

Lance is afraid to ask what that is, so he hurriedly tries to get out all the teasing he can manage to regain his footing from his obvious fall to hell all day.

“Oh yeah, darling, where did you want to go for our honeymoon again?” He flutters his lashes, clasps his hands together. “I’ve heard there’s some fantastic planets nearby for romantic getaways.”

“I would never marry you,” Keith sulks, banging his fists on the table as he rises, “I hate you.”

Lance puts a hand to his chest as if wounded and gasps. “How could you say that, dear? Our love is so pure, so unfounded! Is this our first fight?” He throws out his best puppy dog eyes, is only spurred on by both Pidge and Hunk howling with laughter. “You know, it’s a little early to start asking to file for divorce.”

Keith throws up his hands, starts stomping stiffly away from the table as best he can in stilettos. “If I ever did for some reason lose my mind entirely and ended up marrying you,” he spits furiously over his shoulder, “I’d literally only do it to _divorce you!_ ”

Well now, that was unnecessary.

Lance laughs, smirking as much as he can manage in between enjoying the glorious view of his jiggling backside. “Yeah, well, at least I’m not the one wearing one of Barbie’s banned outfits, sweetheart.”

“Whatever, I’m going to bed!” Keith yells back, ripping off and chucking his veil at Lance’s head before he goes.

Hunk and Pidge are whooping, saying things like ‘ohhhh burn’ and ‘wasted’, continuing to laugh long after Keith disappears from sight.

Of course, Lance can’t help but love watching him leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part two is literally like all smut. here we fucking go ya'll (should be up very....very soon....)


	2. Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you really think that I, _your boyfriend_ ,” Lance tries to explain, wanting nothing more than to skip over this part and get Keith on his back, “Would come to your bedroom in the _middle of the night_ , while I know you’re wearing _that outfit_ —which I watched you prance around and bend over in all day, mind you—just to _gloat about something_?”
> 
> Keith can’t be serious, but his face is nothing but. He shrugs. “Uh, well, yeah, because you’re you. What the hell else would you do?”

This is probably a terrible idea since Keith has been pissy with him all day, but after the events he’s suffered through, Lance really doesn’t give a flying fuck anymore. All he knows is that if he isn’t able to touch Keith in some manner soon, he is going to lose his goddamn mind.

He uses various rationalizations to further his point, like how it will be better for their teamwork in the long run, how it’ll be beneficial for everyone on board, how it could probably help Keith sleep better since he knows he has a lot of trouble doing that.

It would be bad, he thinks, if such a silly thing like his unquenchable desire to fuck Keith into the ground kept them from forming Voltron, obviously.

So he slips out after he’s sure everyone has gone to bed, tiptoes down the hall and through the long corridor, to where he knows Keith’s room is. When the sensor registers he’s there and the door slides open, Lance doesn’t get the romantic, sexual, or even normal greeting that could potentially happen.

Keith is in the middle of the room with his back to him, and Lance cannot believe the nerve of this ridiculous man to continue turning him on so greatly. There’s really no explaining why, but he’s attempting to do some halfhearted martial arts in that fucking outfit. He has his knife out, is jabbing it in the air as he pulls forward and back into different forms, doing a lot of fancy twirls with the blade between his fingers. His balance on the heels in a fighting stance is, admittedly, extremely impressive.

Lance’s breath catches, sticks thick and suffocating like syrup in his throat. That’s it, he’s ending this nightmare now.

He creeps behind Keith quietly, smirking at his great ability for seductive stealth, and drapes himself over his back. He’s wrapping his arms around his soft waist, pressing his lips into the crook of his neck. He’s just barely able to enjoy the feel of finally dragging his palms over where stockings meet fleshy thigh, when Keith swears, turning around abruptly and ruining it all.

Keith is on him in an instant, yes, but it isn’t how he was hoping. His body is being thrown into the wall, one of his arms roughly twisted behind his back before Lance can even think to move in retaliation. The tip of something sharp is prodding between his shoulder blades.

“Ow, ow, ow, Keith, cut it out, it’s just me, chill! Please don’t stab me!”

Keith instantly releases his arm, and Lance whips around to glare at him, rubbing the sting from it. The glare falls a little when he notices the pretty flush lining Keith’s cheeks.

“Oh, sorry.” Keith lets out a long breath and walks over to put his knife down on the table by his bed. “Jesus, why did you do that? You scared the crap out of me.”

Sorry? That’s all his boyfriend has to say after _attacking him and threatening him with a knife_? Who the fuck did he even think would be coming in there at such a time that would warrant something like that?

Lance is still trying to wrap his brain around that when Keith asks bluntly, “What the hell are you doing here so late, Lance?”

Lance blinks, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. This is not how he planned for this conversation to go. He really doesn’t want to say it, would be more content with giving a demonstration in order to keep the sexual tension rising.

“Isn’t it...isn’t it obvious?”

Keith narrows his eyes, hiking up his skirt to scratch at the material of those perfect stockings, and Lance’s fingers twitch, wishing those were his hands there instead. Keith crosses his arms, leans up against the wall. He bends his knee, resting one, still-high-heel clad foot on it.

He kept everything on. This is more than Lance could have ever asked for or anticipated. Anxiety runs as fast and hot through his blood as arousal, because he never thought he’d get this far, and now he’s at a bit of a loss of what to do from here.

“Look, if you came here to gloat again, I don’t want to hear it. I was just about to take this stupid thing off and go to bed. The underwear and stuff is super tight, it’s squeezing the crap out of my ass and legs. I’m pretty sure it’s leaving, like, permanent marks on my skin.”

Lance’s inhales sharply, god that’s hot.

Keith pulls a face, scratching further up his thigh this time. The skirt ruffles, exposing the tiniest glimpse at the bottom of one very curved, very plump lace-encased cheek.

“Also, I think I’m getting a rash, and my balls feel like they’re literally being strangled. Altean lingerie sucks.”

Okay, admittedly, that’s not as hot.

Lance frowns. Does Keith really not understand the logistics of what a booty call is? He swallows the lump in his throat that’s been forming from standing there only watching Keith scratch at his balls, which really shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow it totally is.

“Do you really think that I, _your boyfriend_ ,” Lance tries to explain, wanting nothing more than to skip over this part and get Keith on his back, “Would come to your bedroom in the _middle of the night_ , while I know you’re wearing _that outfit—_ which I watched you prance around and bend over in all day _,_ mind you _—_ just to _gloat about something_?”

Keith can’t be serious, but his face is nothing but. He shrugs. “Uh, well, yeah, because you’re you. What the hell else would you do?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Keith. It’s _such_ a mystery!” Lance slaps a palm to his cheek mockingly, acting as if he has no clue why he’s ended up there himself. Keith only glares in response.

“Maybe I thought you might, you know, need some _help—”_ Batting his eyes, Lance licks his too-dry lips, nodding to Keith’s state of dress. “—getting out of that thing, yeah?”

Keith raises an eyebrow.

“It looks a little…” Flicking his hooded gaze lower, Lance makes a point of dragging it slowly over every inch of Keith’s form. “... _constricting_.”

Lance smirks, pretty proud of his flirting skills, which seem to be getting better and better by the second. Keith has nothing on the amount of game he can dish out.

“I’m completely capable of doing it myself, thanks,” Keith huffs shortly, taking everything exactly 180 degrees in all the wrong directions, “I don’t need you teasing me about how my underwear is currently lodged up into my asshole so far I’m not sure I’ll be able to shit anything but bits of lace for days.”

Wincing at the crudeness of the statement, Lance tries to refocus on preserving what little mood is still left. Who the fuck even says something like that? Why is he trying to make something so fucking hot, so somehow gross? Only Keith, he thinks, shaking his head.

Damn.

“Listen, buddy.” Lance sucks in a large amount of air, pushing on in steering this back in at least a mildly sexy direction. “Even I know when there’s a good place and time to talk about how awesome I can be, and how much better I am than you at basically everything.” Keith glares harder. “But let me tell you right now, I didn’t come here tonight to tease you _like that_.”

Keith throws his hands up, stomping nearer to him in some subtle form of intimidation, but Lance is hardly taking it that way. Because fuck, as far as he’s concerned, Keith acting all pouty and angry while stomping towards him in heels with skintight stockings, a skirt, and a crop top on, is nothing less than foreplay.

“And yet, you still intend to tease me apparently, so how exactly is that different?” Keith exclaims bitterly, and Lance wants to bang his head against the wall, because how the hell is Keith _still_ not getting it?

He’s going to have to really kick this up another notch, amp up the gay tenfold.

Lance waggles his eyebrows, lowers his voice to a sultry whisper. “Want me to _show you_ what I mean, baby?” he purrs, stepping closer to match Keith with a wave to his hips, so that he’s within a well-calculated groping distance.

Cocking an eyebrow in adorable naivety, Keith’s arms fall to his sides. “Huh? How are you gonna show me something dumb you’re probably going to say? That doesn’t make sense.”

Jesus fucking christ. This boy is lucky he’s cute, lucky Lance has a thing for innocence and social ineptness. Lance’s bravado falls, he’s really not sure where to go from here without outright saying it. Keith is such a fucking mood-killer.

Lance sighs, running tired fingers through his hair. Well this was a total bust.

“Goddammit Keith, just get your cute ass on the bed, okay?”

Keith remains indignant, glare deepening and fists raising as if he’s about to fight him about something, so Lance decides to say to hell with it, because there is no way he can wade through another minute of this level of bullshit.

“I want to _fuck you_ , dude, alright? I’m here to mercilessly tease your sweet, sweet skankily dressed hot bod, and your sexy, sexy tight ass, because I have been sporting a hard on the size of a planet all fucking day from watching it.”

Keith flushes from the tips of his ears to his exposed shoulders. He clears his throat, tottering back unsteadily, and brings his fingers to his mouth as if that was a thought so far from his mind he wouldn’t have seen it coming even if it had smacked him in the face.

“Oh,” he croaks. “Uh, well. That explains a lot. Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ indeed.” Lance chuckles, yanking his shoes and socks off and planting himself down on the edge of the bed. He beckons Keith with a finger, pats his lap. “So are you gonna come over here, kitten, or would you rather stand around and watch while I start?”

Keith looks like he’s not sure what to do, so taken aback by the turn of the conversation he hadn’t been looking at as suggestive in the first place that it’s taking his brain some extra time to catch up with it all. Lance gives him a minute to collect himself, shrugging off his pants and shirt to fill the silence, because he’s more than used to shit like this in the bedroom since he started dating someone as dense as Keith.

Finally, Keith comes back to some semblance of partial functioning. He slowly wobbles over, hands wringing together, head tilted down so that his bangs are obscuring most of his face. Lance sort of misses the veil, he’d rather be able to get a good look at him for once without the mop of his hair always covering up his expressions.

Lance leans back on his palms and puffs out his chest. Tipping his chin up, he leers as he watches the flaps of Keith’s skirt bounce with every step, eyes the subtle slide of one of his sleeves revealing more patches of milky flesh.

Despite the view, Keith’s catwalk to him isn’t all that sexy, bordering more on painfully awkward, really. He’s stumbling a lot on his heels now, knees knocking when he does, and Lance is almost tempted to tell him to take them off. Keith uses indignance and pride as his guide when he’s trying to make a point, Lance knows, and now that there’s no point he’s trying to make, he’s in uncharted territory. He’s shuffling around completely unlike how he had earlier, arms crossed over his chest defensively, as though he thinks there’s something wrong with his body.

Lance doesn’t like that. He’s determined to show Keith that there’s nothing, _nothing_ he should _ever_ be ashamed about. He’s determined to show Keith that, out of all the things he _could_ potentially choose to be ashamed about - like maybe how he always wears those awful finger less gloves (god he _still_ has them on even now), how he doesn't shower a whole lot, or his poor choices in hairstyles - his actual body is _so_ not even an option.

“Don’t…” Keith says softly, drawing himself into Lance’s lap, snugly situating his ass there and placing his palms lightly onto his shoulders. He glances to the side, clearly embarrassed. “...don’t fucking call me _kitten_ , asshole.”

“Alright, sugarbear, pumpkin, dollface, honey dumpling,” Lance coos, getting to work planting kisses across Keith’s collarbone, sucking an eager wet path up towards his neck.

Yes, yes, finally he’s here, finally things are all right with the universe, everything as it should be with his lapful of bodacious Keith. Keith tastes like honey and the salt of sweat, a combination that buzzes so pure and uniquely Keith over his taste buds that he really can’t get enough. The silky fabric on Keith’s legs feels equally as pleasant against his own, cool and velvety over his increasingly more heated skin. Every lovely outline, every curve of that wonderful ass is rubbing against his throbbing erection, and it’s nothing short of heaven.

“Lance,” Keith groans over a moan, “Please don’t make me regret this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t, sweetcheeks.”

Lance looks up at him to wink right as he nips lewdly over his pulse point, but Keith scoffs and leans out of reach from his mouth’s ministrations, moving as if to leave. Lance pulls him back in flush against his chest, hands winding around to grip two handfuls of full, lace encased asscheeks. Keith’s eyes flutter half-lidded, head bowing forward with a small gasp when Lance starts kneading the flesh between his fingers gently.

“Kidding, kidding! Don’t be such a sulky sally, just...relax.”

He doesn’t give Keith a chance to respond, capturing his lips before he can decide that Lance is too annoying for him to sacrifice anymore of his dignity. Keith grunts, pushing back hard against him, and laces his arms around his neck.

Making out is something they’re used to, something they’ve been doing at basically every chance they’ve had in their downtime, and Lance honestly feels like he could do it for hours and still not feel entirely satisfied with getting all he can of that lovely taste pouring over his lips.

Lance squeezes Keith’s ass with a little more pressure, peeking one eye open to watch how he responds. Keith’s rhythm breaks as his back arches, snagging Lance’s lower lip between his teeth in his keening. He’s starting to roll his hips, grinding with enthusiasm over his crotch. Lance can feel the weight of his cock pressing insistently hot against his own through the material of his boxers.

Lance slides his hands higher to Keith’s waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of his skirt to reach at the sensitive bare flesh there at the same time that his tongue meets Keith’s.

“Mmm,” Keith hums in approval, breath huffing out warm and heady over Lance’s cheeks.

Keith sucks back on his tongue, whining a little when Lance crawls those wandering fingers lower on his ass. Keith’s hands tangle into his hair, pulling on the strands in that way he knows Lance loves. Lance rewards him instantly, further deepening the kiss, groping all he can grab until Keith breaks off the kiss to cry out, bucking against him, neck snapping towards the ceiling.

As much as Lance likes this position, there’s only so much he can reach and do here, only so much more he can take of having his stupid boxers on. So he flips Keith onto the bed on his back in one fluid movement, watches as he falls to it with a light bounce. He’s splaying out his limbs immediately and raising his hips, urging Lance to continue, hair wildly fanned out on the sheets. Keith reaches out to try and grab Lance’s wrist to pull him back, and it takes everything in Lance’s resolve to not oblige him. He needs to get this damn underwear off first.

“God,” Lance gasps, practically ripping his boxers in his eagerness to get them off and flinging them across the room.

He stands at the edge of the bed, simply staring, taking it all in for a second—the light of the stars from the window playing those awe-inspiring highlights and shadows again on Keith’s skin, the disheveled state of his shirt and skirt, the burgeoning bulge pushing up the lace between his thighs.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“And you’re taking too long,” Keith mutters gruffly, completely ruining the moment. He prods Lance’s knee with one of his heels. “Come here already.”

“Rude.”

Lance frowns, because what is it with Keith and not being able to read the atmosphere? He’s going to have to teach him a thing or two about romance at some point later, he thinks as he crawls onto the bed and straddles him.

“You know, if I were you, I’d be a little more _appreciative_ ,” Lance says, kissing Keith more roughly, more hungrily, so that when he pulls back he can admire the way his lips have reddened to the point he can now pretend he’s wearing lipstick. “After all, you’re about to be pleasured by this smoking, hot bod, and that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘ _be pleasured_ ’?” Keith scrunches his nose, but continues to be responsive under his touches, especially when Lance flicks one of his nipples through his shirt. “That doesn’t... _ah_ , sound very sexy.”

Lance has always loved how sensitive those small, cute nubs can be, but pinching them through the spandex is having a much more interesting effect than usual. Keith’s breathing is already heavily labored, his cheeks a cherry red, his moans a lot louder than Lance remembers them ever being.

“Like you would know anything about what sounds sexy,” Lance snorts under his breath, raking his nails lightly from Keith’s chest to his navel. Keith’s breath hitches for about the tenth time so far, another moan slipping long and drawn out when Lance snags one of those hardened nubs along the way. “Mr. I-don’t-even understand-when-people-are-trying-to-hit-on-me.”

“Shut up,” Keith snaps while he wraps his legs around Lance, heels digging tiny pricks of pain into the small of his back, “You just...caught me off guard, okay? I wasn’t expecting... _fuck_...it.”

“You want me to fuck it?” Lance teases, hands crawling to the flap of the skirt. He flips it up, rubs a thumb against the bulge underneath that has now doubled in size. “Alright.”

“Ugh— _oh_.”

Keith’s legs are trembling around him, his torso visibly tensing, so Lance grips one hand on his thigh to hold it steady, sighing at the feeling of finally getting his fingernails digging into that thick flesh. The other works over Keith’s cock, pressing the barest of pressure, using only one finger to tease the underside of his shaft. The response Lance gets is immediate, and has him wanting to instantly do terrible things to Keith, to hold him down and just take him right there, because Keith grips his shoulder and grinds up into the touch in a desperate way that is definitely unlike him.

“Oh-ho.” Lance is nervous, oh god he’s so nervous, lips moving fast to try and keep himself from coming right there and then. He’s starting to think all that jerking off before he got there might not have helped as much as he’d hoped. He pulls back a little, trying to keep his own cock from making too much contact, just in case. “Someone’s...impatient tonight…”

Keith’s chest heaves, his legs spreading invitingly more open, heels losing their grip and sliding off Lance’s back—but, he’s still glaring. “God, could you just shut up and do something about this already, fuck.”

It’s funny, Lance hadn’t thought to question it much when Keith had so easily given in earlier when he told him he wanted to fuck him, too busy wanting to relieve the aching tension in his groin that’s been killing him all day. But Keith usually isn’t this eager, he notes, usually isn’t this pliable and willing beneath him, especially when Lance can never seem to keep himself from talking and pissing Keith off, which is one of the main reasons they never get farther than some heavy petting or quick mutual jerk-off sessions.

Nothing has changed, really, he’s still talking probably about an annoying amount since he always does that when he gets nervous, and Keith is, without a doubt, still annoyed at some level. But he isn’t moving to leave in a huff, isn’t trying to fight him, isn’t losing his erection like he sometimes does when he gets too frustrated with Lance’s loose lips.

A realization hits Lance, and hits him hard. Despite all the saliva that’s been swapped between them, his mouth has never been drier. He shouldn’t talk, shouldn’t try and ruin this great gift he’s been given, but he really has to know.

Lance pauses, leaning back to really get a good look at him. “Wait, were you...turned on _before_ I got here?”

Keith’s eyes widen, his flush stretches farther, blooms deeper. That’s all the confirmation Lance needs to know. “L-Lance, please, come on—”

Lance grins so wide it physically pains him, because this is fantastic, just amazing. He always knew that deep down, Keith would be a real freak in bed. He feels like the luckiest man in the universe.

“Oh man, you get off on wearing this kinda thing, don’t you? That is so fucking hot.”

Keith aims a pointy, very dangerous kick towards his stomach. Lance dodges before it can make contact near any of his vital organs, almost falling backwards off the bed as he scrambles to get out of range from the sneak attack. Keith grins and keeps one leg lifted in warning, fully intent on weaponizing his feet. Lance decides, nervous sweat collecting on his forehead, that it’s probably about time the heels go off. He lunges forward, clasping both of Keith’s bony ankles between his sweaty palms.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you,” Keith threatens weakly, struggling against Lance’s grip on him.

Lance continues holding him, pinning him down, not entirely displeased with having to do so as Keith’s wriggling slips his top further up, gives an alluring shake to his hips, and bounces the weight of his erection, which has Lance’s cock twitching to further attention. Lance grapples with the straps, the infuriatingly tiny clasps on the things, removing one shoe while keeping his other hand pushing Keith’s shin to keep from getting gutted by stilettos.

Keith isn’t really trying to fight him, outside of the whole ‘might possibly poke your eye out with my shoe’ thing. Lance wonders for all of ten seconds about how Keith even managed to put these on in the first place before he notices what Keith has decided to do since his hands are now occupied with stupid straps and clasps.

Keith’s snaked his own hand down to pick up right where Lance left off, rubbing himself slowly against the roughness of the fabric, and it’s pretty unfair that he gets to have all this fun while Lance’s life flashes before his eyes.

“Why the hell would I ever, ever tell anyone, you numbnut?” Lance mutters quietly, fingers fumbling, trying to keep his focus on the shoe, yes, the shoe, “Fuck, _who_ would I even tell? Some alien dude on a random planet out there? Keith, come on, let’s be real here.”

He unbuckles the last clasp, tosses the right one off and starts working on the left as fast as his fingers can manage. But Keith isn’t struggling anymore, his fingers are beginning to still. When Lance looks up after removing the other godawful thing, Keith is just staring at him.

Does this boy even realize how lovely he is?

Lance leans over Keith and tips his chin up, presses a sloppy kiss to his reddened, puffy lips while trailing a finger down his cheek. Giving a sly grin, he absently traces the grooves mapping the outlines of Keith’s collarbone. “No one gets to know about this, but you and me baby, alright?”

His palm covers Keith’s cock again, pushing down a little harder than before, provoking a high-pitched groan as he plants a path of butterfly kisses down Keith’s neck, over his chest, landing on his stomach where he settles with dragging his tongue across and sucking until red marks begin to break the pale surface of his skin. Keith’s hands tangle in his hair, gripping tight in the strands when Lance moves lower, mouth inching to his crotch.

Lance stops, glancing up to admire his reactions, closely watching the way Keith’s blown out pupils plead for more. “Trust me, no one else _deserves_ to know about this, ever.”

“O-okay,” Keith says quietly, “I...okay…”

Keith doesn’t continue with anything more, and the silence becomes filled with his tiny gasps instead, these interesting lilting whimpers that are new and instantly pleasing to Lance’s ears.

Lance dips his head down, staring at Keith’s cock hesitantly for a moment, wondering if this is safe territory to explore. Encouraged by Keith’s responsiveness, he decides to try out something he’s been thinking about for a while now, has been playing out in his dreams a lot lately.

He mouths over the head that’s straining through the fabric, that’s flushed heavily and glistening with precum. It’s peeking out from the panties, stockings laced over it. Keith gives this strangled sort of cry, pulling a handful of Lance’s hair when he moves his lips, flicks out the tip of his tongue to drag it from the head down to the base. The taste is new, strange, but not bad at all. Lance breathes a large puff of hot air out before he pulls back, proudly watching precum drip between the gaps of his stockings.

“Fuck, Lance...that’s…that’s...”

“That’s..?” Lance snaps his head up, unable to continue when he’s so eager to see Keith’s pretty face, to see the effect he’s having on him.

“Good...so warm...shit…don’t stop...” Keith takes one of his own finger to his lips, sucking the digit between them as he inhales sharply. The pout he gives Lance then makes him want to kiss him and touch for hours like this. “Why the fuck did you stop..?”

“Man...who knew you were such a little pervert, huh?” Lance laughs, ignoring his neediness because he’s intent on exploring the effect of teasing him as much as he can when he’s suddenly so sensitive.

He slides up Keith’s skimpy top to tweak a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He’s not sure he can bring himself to take the top off completely, still trying to think of ways to fuck Keith through the stockings as well.

“Well, I guess I knew, because I’m super awesome and I always imagined you’d have it in you. I’m impressed, babe, you’re so cute.”

Keith only whimpers in response, bucking into his touch, incredibly adorable even as he sulks to the side - scratch that, more adorable because of that, definitely.

“I d-didn’t...didn’t,” Keith struggles to say something, starting and stopping a few times as Lance moves his palm rhythmically in tiny circles, rubbing the head of his cock over and over through the now thoroughly damp crotch of the stockings. “...know, I’d, you know….”

“Hmm?” Lance lifts his head from his focus on Keith’s crotch, blood pumping harder at the desperation lining Keith’s face. “Didn’t know what?”

“...that I’d like it that much,” Keith manages to admit hoarsely, arching his back, moving his hips in time with every squeeze, every bit of pressure as Lance strokes him. He draws in a shuddering breath, pushes out moans so erotic and crude, they should be illegal.

“Shit,” Lance breathes. “Shit.”

For once, his mouth can’t find words to form, so Lance settles on wrapping his fingers tighter around Keith’s shaft, hooking his thumb into the fabric and digging it in with the motion, so that the friction catches against the ridge of his swollen head.

“Ah!” Keith’s neck snaps back, his fingers curl into the sheets. A low, distorted moan escapes his lips that Lance has never heard before. The shock of it sends tremors down Lance’s spine, makes his cock jump for the thousandth time that day. “Oh, _god_ , do...can you do that again?”

“You...you like that..?” Lance asks, gulping. He twists the lace, pulling it flush and tight against the engorged tip. Lance pumps him fast a few times, then moves to a painstakingly slow pace. He can’t get enough of watching Keith’s reactions, can’t get over how gorgeous he is. “How...how about this?”

“Holy fuck,” Keith gasps, thrusting involuntarily, hips angling higher as he tries to get more contact. “Fuck that feels good.”

Lance repeats the movements, gripping handfuls of the lace, snagging it around his head and shaft as he moves up and down with hurried strokes, until Keith is spilling a mess of garbled pleas, until the wet of precum is soaking the entire garment. When Lance continues stroking with one hand, he trails the other to experimentally snap the spandex of Keith’s stocking hard against his thigh, and Keith cries so beautifully, disjointedly jerking beneath his touch for at least a solid ten seconds.

Lance’s mouth is more parched than the desert now, and there’s nothing more he’d like than to see the spread of the red blotch that’s surely bleeding across that flawless skin.

“Want,” Keith pants, one hand curling fingers back into Lance’s hair, tugging, yanking for purchase. He’s unwrapping his legs, pushing himself up on his elbows. Lance stares as Keith bites his lip, looking off to the side like he’s afraid to ask for whatever request is sitting on the tip of his tongue.

“Want what?”

Lance nudges Keith’s palm to dislodge his fingers from his hair, and sits back on his knees. He presses one single finger on Keith's cock and watches it jump, amused, laughing as Keith spits curses at him.

Chest heaving, Keith sighs, gritting in such a small voice that Lance has to lean in to hear him, “I want...want you to do, you know... _it._ ”

Keith throws out one hand and waves it when he says ‘it’, as if he’s talking about something he wants Lance to pick up at the grocery store.

“What’s ‘it’?”

Lance feigns ignorance, smirk unfurling like a victory flag over his face. He knows, of course, but his entire body is eager to hear Keith actually say it. His heart is thudding so fast in his chest he’s sure it’s going to burst through his rib cage any second now.

“Lance,” Keith growls, pushing his foot against Lance’s cock. Lance almost chokes at the feeling of the arch of his bare feet, so smooth and cool, slipping over his neglected erection. With every tiny prod of his toes forward, his hips jerk to meet them. “Just...just…”

“Y-Yeah?”

Keith huffs one last time before folding completely, and when he comes undone like this, Lance can only pray that he’ll end up able to leave in one piece again.

“God, you’re such a hopeless pervert. Just _fuck_ me, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I want you to fuck me, _Lance_. I want your fingers, your cock in me, I don’t even know, just anything. Whatever it is, put it in me, and do it quick.”

“Oh, uh, w-well. Takes one to, uh, k-know one, ha,” Lance says childishly out of habit, because how the fuck is he even supposed to respond to that? His tongue fumbles as much as his body begins to mold, to melt as Keith draws nearer, starts sucking and nipping up his neck, engraving possessive marks into his skin. Lance honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up later to find the purpling remnants of Keith’s initials there in the morning.

Keith removes his foot from his cock, only to sneak one hand up to fondle his balls instead, pressing lightly as he plays with the folds between his fingers.

Lance shakes his head. Focus, somehow, some way, he needs to focus. “I m-mean, yeah, fuck, yes. Let’s...let’s do that.”

“ _Please_ ,” Keith adds in this whiny voice that comes straight from Lance’s best wet dreams, fingers traipsing over the thick of his erection and gliding up it. Lance’s eyes slam themselves shut, a moan dragging roughly between his lips before he can even comprehend what language is again for a comeback.

Keith knows what he’s doing to him. He definitely knows what he’s doing as he laughs, thumbs the ridge of the head of Lance’s cock and presses down hard against the tip. It doesn’t help at all that the leather of his gloves chafe in that way that always has Lance begging for more, doesn’t help that he’s got his knee between his thighs, causing his stockings to rub right on the underside of his shaft and balls. Lance now understands exactly what’s got Keith so riled up, because the sensation is indescribable outside of the words, ‘holy fucking shitballs’.

“Pretty, pretty please, _honeybun_?”

It doesn’t matter if it’s sarcastic, Lance finds it hot regardless.

“K-Keith, dammit, I said I would, can you stop before I— _f_ _uck—_ ”

Lance bucks, then against all that is screaming rationally in his brain, he separates himself from Keith’s greedy fingers, sucking in a deep breath as he tries to recover in the fading afterglow of silk and lace and so much soft skin on him at once. That was a close one for sure.

“I’ve dreamt about it a lot, you know.” Keith is still laughing as he spouts lines that seem to come from those scripted wet dreams Lance has every night, though there’s this genuine, blunt edge to them that Lance suspects isn’t an act at all. “About what it’d be like. I thought...thought about how it would feel to be fucked by you...fucked hard enough that I...that I can’t even think anymore, can’t even say anything.”

“Can’t even breathe.”

Keith audibly inhales as if to accentuate that statement, rolling over to crawl across the bed and pluck something from the table by it. His voice becomes farther away, and yet, remains loud in Lance’s ears as if he’s whispering directly into them.

“And in those dreams, you take me hard, right against the headboard, or up by the wall without any warning. Sometimes you bend me over in places we really shouldn’t be doing that sort of stuff, like on the kitchen table, or the training deck control room, or...you know.” Keith pauses as he fiddles with opening, rummaging around in a drawer. As much as he’s trying to maintain his bedroom voice, a laugh cracks through. “Inside our lions, which is just...haha, well. I’m sure you’ve thought about it, too, but if you haven’t, then consider this my gift to your future fantasies.”

Lance doesn’t have to see Keith’s face to know he’s probably grinning a mile a minute. God, he’ll never, ever, ever be able to look at any of those things the same way again (poor Blue and Red, the unsuspecting victims in their perverted fantasies, because of fucking course he’s thought about _that_ ). His hands itch with the need to crawl over to Keith, to get him pinned and taking his cock, deep and hard, against the headboard like he apparently desires.

Keith sighs wistfully, and for fuck’s sake, if he keeps saying these things, Lance thinks he might cum from that alone.

“I’ll be...screaming, moaning...a lot. It’s a miracle, too, you aren’t being annoying for once, just fucking me good and rough like I deserve to be fucked. You make it so fucking good, and it’s the best feeling when you’re filling me up, like I’m being pieced back together as a better person. But…”

Keith turns back around, hand clasping something white-knuckled. Lance is having more than just trouble focusing, Keith’s alluring words combined with his honesty a rare occasion that has his stomach doing these tiny, fluttering somersaults.

He crawls back over to Lance, all loose-limbed, cheeks dusted pink, cock curved towards his stomach to the point the skirt is flipped up. He lifts one of those dumb gloved fingers to Lance’s cheek, shoves some small, sleek bottle into his hand.

Lance almost drops it, eyes glued to the bashful flutter of his thick lashes.

“But you take me really slow sometimes too, you know? You’re real careful with me, very sweet. I think…” Keith smiles this toothy, lop-sided grin, glancing to the side as his cheeks flush deeper. “I think I’d like that even more.”

“I think,” Lance squeaks in the most unmanly voice he has ever heard coming from his mouth, “I think I can do that.”

In all honesty, he isn’t so confident in his abilities, and he’s afraid Keith might know that by the shrill pitch of his voice. Still, he can’t see why he can’t put forth his best effort.

“Yeah?” Keith rolls over on his hands and knees, perfectly rounded ass pushing high in the air like the greatest offering Lance has ever seen. “Then get to it, pretty boy.”

“Ha-ha,” Lance’s voice cracks as he more closely inspects the bottle in his hands. He really doesn’t care to know the why, how, or when of Keith getting his hands on some alien form of lube. Well, not now, anyway. “Y-yes sir!”

Kneeling behind Keith, Lance flips the back flap of the skirt up, running one hand across Keith’s trembling thigh and up to his ass slowly, relishing in the smooth combination of skin and fabric once more before he unfortunately has to take it off. His fingers climb to the hem of the stockings, ready to pull and mourn the loss of the glorious things he’s grown so attached to, when Keith throws a hand back to stop him.

“Want it on,” Keith stutters, hips snapping back when Lance crawls his free hand to cup his balls, “Please, k-keep it on.”

“Um.” Lance shakes himself free from Keith’s grasp and continues running his fingers along the lines of the stockings, tracing over the patterns that hug the curves of his ass so magnificently. “How exactly do you want me to...do that?”

“Push the panties aside and fuck me through the stockings,” Keith says bluntly, as if he’s talking about the weather. But his voice is shaky and breathing ragged as Lance slides his hand beneath the stockings, hooks a finger into the panties and does exactly that, though he’s not sure where to go from there, eyeing the holes of the sort-of-but-not-really-fishnets and looking back to his dick a few times, squinting uncertainly.

Yeah, there is no way he’s getting that through there.

“The stockings are sort of...still in the way, dude.”

Keith sighs. “Lance, just fucking rip them. This material isn’t exactly strong.”

Oh. He feels unbelievably stupid. “Right right.”

Lacing his fingers into the stringy pieces of the pattern right across his ass, Lance pulls them apart with enough pressure until the holes grow wider, until it tears in a few places. Luckily, when he pushes the panties further to the side, they stick easily out of the way with the static of the lace and the sweat that’s gathered on Keith’s skin. Face to face with the small, pink twitching hole that he’s only touched in his most wildest dreams, Lance clears his throat.

He can totally do this, no problem.

“Fingers first, right?”

Lance pops the cap of the bottle off, trying to steady his shaking hands enough to coat the fingers of his right with the cold liquid inside. He knows the logistics of how this is done, but he’s never gone this far with anyone before. To say he’s anxious about it would be an understatement. It’s honestly so bad at this point, his erection has embarrassingly even been waning a little.

“Y-yeah…” Keith confirms, spreading his legs tantalizingly wider, arching his back, showing the perfect flex of every muscle visible where his barely-classifiable-as-a-shirt doesn’t cover.

“‘K, it’s just...talk to me a lot, okay?” Lance gulps, circling the rim of his hole, testing how it feels, imagines how it might feel to slip inside something that seems much too small to take such a thing, let alone his cock. “I’ve never, uh, never done this before.”

“Really?” Keith sounds genuinely surprised, and he’s not sure why. Despite how much Lance would like to say he was an expert when they first started getting physical, his technique with kissing at first had obviously been a dead giveaway of his inexperience, so he assumed Keith would have anticipated this. “I mean, I figured you were a virgin, but you never fingered yourself before or anything?”

“Well, no. I never really thought about it, I guess.” Lance pauses, imagining something that thankfully has his erection returning with fervor. “Wait, have you?”

“Mmm, yeah. You should try it, it feels really good.” Keith is shifting to slowly stroke himself as he talks, which almost completely ruins Lance’s thinly held together concentration. His voice lowers suggestively, rich and warm, like a ribbon of silk unfurling in the heat of the summer sun. “Or...I can do it _to_ you next time, if you want.”

“Er, uh, w-well—”

Lance is almost tempted to respond with ‘why don’t you show me how you do it then’ to try and focus more back to that, because he’s going to need some nice alone time later to figure out what to with that second suggestion. But Keith continues with basic instructions, obviously intent on teaching him with a less demonstrative approach, which is a bit disappointing.

“Heh, think about it and let me know sometime when you’re not about to be balls deep in me, okay?”

Lance falters with his finger, which up until then had been continuing to lightly press against the the now fluttering hole in front of him. He licks his lips, which he’s sure are probably severely cracked by this point. “Uh—”

“Speaking of which, you’ll need to start with one finger, then add more slowly, and like...move them around a lot, spread them out inside of me to loosen up…y’know...stuff. That sort of shit. It’s not hard, just be careful and use a good amount of lube.”

“...Okay.” That definitely doesn’t sound difficult, but Lance finds he has a lot of questions all of a sudden. He really should have asked about this stuff earlier, Keith is probably already frustrated considering all of his teasing so far. “How will I know when you’re...uh, ready?”

Keith gives this strange, lilting cross between a giggle and a moan. “Trust me, you’ll know.” As if he can hear the uncertain frown spreading across Lance’s face, he adds softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll talk you through it. It’s not a big deal.”

“...alright. I’m going to...do it then.”

Before he does anything, Lance dips some more of the lube onto his fingers, his other sweaty hand tangling into the sheets as he moves forward on his knees. He presses a light kiss to the small of Keith’s back before he presses one finger in him, wriggling pass the opening. It slightly resists at first, but with all the lube coating his finger, relents without any trouble at all.

Keith jerks forward, gasping in a way that has Lance stilling immediately.

“Ah, jesus!”

“What, what?” Alarmed, Lance pulls his finger out quickly. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Keith chuckles as he leans down to his elbows, posturing his ass higher up, and looks back at him over his shoulder. “It was just—the lube was really cold. Rub it with your hand to warm it up next time, fuck.”

“Oh.” Lance feels the tenseness in his shoulders unwind, relieved. A sheepish grin replaces the worry lining his face. “Oh man, sorry. That must have felt weird, huh?”

Keith snorts. “Very,” he agrees. “It’s okay though, you’re doing fine. I probably should have told you that before.”

Beaming at the praise, Lance pours more of the sticky liquid into his hand and rubs his palms together until it's warm and tingling on his skin. Inhaling deeply, letting the weight of his breath flow out in one long go—in and out, in and out, repeat—he slips his finger back past the tight outer ring and slowly inside again.

“Better?” Lance pushes forward a little more.

Keith gasps again, but this time it’s more muted, lower. “Uh-huh…”

The heat is indescribable, and Lance can feel the clenching of muscles around him. He’s going to take his time, of course, but knowing that this is what he’s going to be feeling around his dick not long from now has some of his anxiety fading away to pure, eager anticipation.

He wriggles his finger around, carefully pulls it out and then slides back in gently. Keith is thrusting back into it to meet him, and Lance lets go of his death grip in the sheets to grab his ass, to spread him open so he can more clearly see what he’s doing.

“Good, Lance, you’re doing so well. K-keep going, that’s exactly how you do it.”

A tingle of electricity shoots up his spine every time Keith compliments him, which is a new development in his kinks that Lance wasn’t aware of before. Lance repeats the motion, but when his finger inches back in, it’s somewhat more forcefully. Keith moans, hips rolling harder. The muscle contractions don’t feel as strong, letting up as he slides his finger in and out with ease, each time a little faster, a little harder. His confidence is building by the second.

“M-more, add more  _now_ , Lance, just like you’ve been doing. Maybe a bit harder, though.”

Keith is glancing at him over his shoulder again, all hooded-eyes and this dreamy expression on his face that Lance usually only sees after he watches him cum. He smiles before he lets his head tilt to the side when another brush of Lance's fingers has him keening again.

So he does, and he thinks back to what Keith told him. After settling both fingers in snugly, he waits until Keith whines, until his breathing is so ragged and raspy Lance can barely comprehend the disgruntled command of “ _Move, dammit_ ,” before he spreads out his fingers like scissors, hitting some strange swollen bulge that’s apparently very tender inside of him.

Keith’s head snaps back so fast he’s sure he heard the sound of it in the air like a whip cracking, and the moan that follows is so loud Lance is glad he chose Keith’s room to do this in, because thankfully it’s much farther away from the others’ rooms than his is.

“Fuck...fuck...yes, god, feels good....you’re amazing, Lance, _such_ a good boy…”

Keith giggles as much as he can manage over his whimpers. He’s definitely caught onto to how much he likes to be told he’s doing a good job, of that Lance is certain. He’s never going to live this down later.

“Are you...are you sure you’re alright?”

Lance does it again, twisting in deeper, spreading out his fingers wider and then closing them together; again, Keith cries out, his hips jerking so wildly Lance has to steady him with his hand.

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith groans, and Lance notices he’s stroking himself again, rougher and more erratically. “Lance, Lance. ‘M fine, it’s great, love it. More, please, more.”

He only has the third finger in for what seems like seconds before Keith is mumbling nonsense, is pushing against him so hard Lance is having trouble meeting his rhythm.

Lance slows down so Keith can at least communicate what he wants, but that’s met with an even more impatient whine. “Fuck, fuck, enough, that’s enough.”

Lance pulls his fingers out immediately, afraid he may have hurt Keith after all. “Sorry, sorry, I—”

Keith is turning over, is pulling him in for a rough, heated kiss before he can say another word. He’s wrapping his legs around his waist, lips hungrily parting and tongue pushing fast into his mouth. Lance meets him eagerly, savoring his sweet taste, basking in so many of his senses overloading—the musky smell of sex in the air, the softness of Keith’s hair as he cups the back of his head, the rough drag of silk and lace over his sweaty skin as Keith's thighs squeeze him harshly.

Keith only pulls away to speak, pupils blown so wide it’s like his eyes have been swallowed up in the pitch black void of space filtering from the window as he gasps his final instruction.

“Fuck me, Lance,” he pleads, and Lance peppers kisses down his neck, latching his teeth onto it and sinking in until he draws tiny pinpricks of blood.

Keith throws his head back against the sheets, hands encircling Lance’s chest, nails digging into the flesh of his back. Again, that teasing giggle through it all. “I want you in me _sooo_ bad right now, _darling_.”

Fake porny voice be damned—it would be rude of him not to obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um.
> 
> got carried away with...things. so now this will be three parts. whoops?
> 
>  
> 
> ~~i bet you all thought Keith was gonna be the one with the praise kink, huh? hopefully this will satisfy some of ya'll's thirstiness...for now....~~


	3. Chiaroscuro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look so fucking good like this, baby. If only you could see yourself, spread open and twitching, so ready for my cock. Dressed in all this slutty, tight clothing.” 
> 
> He wriggles a finger under one of the holes of the stockings, keeping his eyes locked tight on him, and rips it until Keith gasps.
> 
> “You want it bad, don’t you?”

Lance takes in one last deep breath, before slicking himself with lube and trying to line up to the wet heat beckoning him in. Easier said than done, because Keith is still grinding up on him, far past having the patience for anything slow. Licking his lips, Lance locks eyes with him as he forcibly pushes his hips down into the mattress.

“ _Oh_ ,” Keith moans, digging his nails into his skin, arching sharply. His eyes are blown wide with need. Lance is sure his back must be painted raw with scratches at this point. “Come on, I was being mostly serious, just fuck me already.”

“I’m trying, you’re moving too much. Easy, kitten, easy,” Lance coos as he leans to his ear, ghosting his breath along the edge. “I’m gonna take good care of you, promise.”

There’s no objection to the pet name this time around. If anything, the flush spreading in Keith’s cheeks floods darker.

Interesting.

Lance runs a soothing tongue over Keith’s throat, feeling how he swallows hard, tasting the sweetness of his skin. Keith calms a little more, but his thighs are trembling, his inhales intermittent like he’s forgetting to breathe.

Lance pauses, considering his options. Leaning back, watching Keith for a moment, the slow rise and fall of his chest as he raises a questioning brow. Missionary—well, that’s where most people would start, he thinks. The real question is, if Keith will let him attempt something that intimate.

“Here’s good, I think,” Lance tests, reaching over to tuck a messy strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re prettiest like this, you know?” Winking, he shoots him a finger gun. “Where I can get a nice look at the whole, beautiful package.”

Keith huffs a sigh, glancing away, but doesn’t complain. Just flops fully onto his back, dragging over a pillow and lifting his hips as he slides it underneath them.

Lance bends Keith’s legs into an easier position, and finds that he’s surprisingly flexible as he’s able to fold his knees in towards his head. Stretching him open more, Lance can get a much better view of his slicked and worked open hole, fluttering as it anticipates what’s to come.

Lance caresses a hand over the sensitive skin of one of his inner thighs, rubbing the muscle there, attempting to get him to relax more. As much as Keith seems eager to continue, Lance can feel how tense he is. He knows from basic instinct, that that could probably lead into a less fun time for both of them.

“Can you hold yourself open for me?” Lance asks, and Keith nods with another shaky hitch of his breath. Unexpectedly docile, all of a sudden.

He grabs himself on either side, spreading his cheeks even further apart. The contrast of his gloves holding his pale, thick flesh over those crisscrossing fishnets, leather bound fingers prying apart his reddened hole, is almost too much to bear.

“Oh _yeah_ , that’s it.”

Lance whistles lowly, running one hand over the area. Thumb circling the rim, fingers barely teasing his balls.

He can see Keith’s fingers dig harder into himself. “Lance…”

“What? You want something?”

Keith doesn’t answer him, just watches, glaring. Clearly embarrassed, about being this vulnerable. But he’s waiting, allowing him to do this, like he’s loving every second of this attention, but doesn’t want to give Lance the satisfaction of letting him know.

Lance crawls over him, settling between his legs. He lets his breath fan out teasingly over Keith’s lips, and Keith whines, attempting to lean in for a kiss.

There’s something about being in control like this, about having a certain amount of power over Keith now. It’s an invigorating feeling that has his head spinning with lust and a sudden burst of newfound confidence. He’s never felt a rush like this before, seeing the way Keith shakes for him, obeys his orders, whimpers when he doesn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his lips.

He thinks over and over again about how he did that, how he turned Keith on like this. How Keith trusts him enough to submit to him, to allow him to see him this way. That Keith is only this way because of him. That he’s the first to see Keith like this, to take Keith like this.

And he’s intent on being the only one who ever will.

“You look so fucking good like this, baby. If only you could see yourself, spread open and twitching, so ready for my cock. Dressed in all this slutty, tight clothing.”

He wriggles a finger under one of the holes of the stockings, keeping his eyes locked tight on him, and rips it until Keith gasps.

“You want it bad, don’t you?”

This is a new side of Keith he’s never seen before. Especially as his talking isn’t met with any annoyed expression or exasperation, but with a sharp snap of Keith’s hips, an eager jump of his cock that strains the fabric of the panties. His head lulls back, eyes lidding until they’re mere slits pleading with him to do more.

“ _Please_ ,” Keith begs, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Quietly, his voice small like even he can’t believe he’s doing this.

Lance cradles his chin with his hand, thumb brushing over his lip. “Then you’ve got to breathe. Relax for me.”

A nod again, comprehension lighting up behind his eyes. Keith takes in one large breath, then blows it out. Smiling, Lance tells him to take a few more, and then he rewards him with a kiss.

When he feels Keith go more slack, Lance guides his cock back between his thighs. Carefully, he pushes in, the barest inch. Keith’s hips twitch under his hands. He lets out another low, desperate whine.

“You’re getting so worked up over nothing,” Lance says, laughing, “I’m barely even in you yet.”

That gets a more typical reaction, as Keith’s eyebrows knit together. “Shut _up_ ,” he hisses, and Lance takes the opportunity to thrust forward, sliding in another few inches.

Keith is tight, an all consuming warmth that has Lance cursing under his breath. His muscles are contracting, like they can’t decide if they want to pull him in or force him out.

Lance wasn’t prepared for this. He’s thought all this time that he was, but he really fucking isn’t. With Keith’s legs spreading wider, skirt more flipped up so Lance can see the way his cock twitches under its remaining small cover, he knows he’s absolutely in over his head here.

Keith is sucking him in even greedier than he could have ever imagined. The sensation is overwhelming, for both of them. His stockings are adding an extra nice friction as Lance pushes into the hilt, and he can see Keith watching intently as the girth of his cock rips them apart even further. The panties stretch back, glistening with lube and sweat and precum.

“Fuck, Lance,” Keith says around a rasping breath, “Please, please, move.”

Lance grins. Rolls his hips into him, slowly. He’s less nervous than before, after all the praises and encouragement Keith has given him, but he’s still holding back a great deal. Afraid, that if he goes too hard, he could hurt him. In his inexperience, he isn’t sure how much an asshole can really take. The width of his cock seems like it could cause way more damage than a few thin fingers.

Sweat beads on his forehead. His heart is racing, thumping hard against his rib cage.

A rhythm is a lot harder to keep than to build to, is what Lance discovers after he starts moving. It’s not that thrusting is a hard concept—it’s something Lance’s body picks up as easily as breathing. Keith is making plenty of encouraging sounds, many, many different noises he’s never heard before that makes his throat drier than ever.

But Lance wants to make him scream. Wants to make him lose complete composure, like he did when he was fingering him. And he can tell, by the way Keith frustratedly keeps canting his hips  with his eyes screwed up in concentration, that he’s not quite hitting the mark he needs to be. Especially as he grows quieter, whimpering and moving back on him erratically like he can’t get close enough.

Moving your fingers the right way is one thing. Being able to find that spot with only the use of your dick, is another thing entirely. Another thing entirely, that he knows Keith doesn’t have the patience for at all right now.

There's a tenderness between them here, regardless of these facts, which is why Lance thinks Keith chooses to stay silent. He’s smoothing back his hair and telling him how lovely he looks, and Keith is shivering with every word, with every touch.

Lance doesn’t want to let him down, though. He wants to see that face absolutely destroyed in bliss, wants to make Keith cum way before he does.

“Hey,” Lance breathes, licking a stripe up his neck, “You wanna ride me? Might be easier for you to, uh, you know. Find what you’re looking for.”

Keith doesn’t respond in any other way but to slam his palm to his chest and shove him down, until he’s flipped over with his back hitting the mattress. So forcefully that the bed creaks, the headboard banging against the wall. With Keith’s eyes narrowed down at him in such beautiful fury, the strength that goes into it has Lance quivering all over with desire. He’s hovering over him, panting, automatically sinking deeper than either of them probably expected to be possible.

Pausing, Keith hunches further over as he moans, long and loud. His hands clamp around Lance’s wrists, pinning his arms out to his side.

Hips resisting the urge to buck, Lance shudders, gasps, “Oookay, so I guess that’s a yes—”

Tentatively, Keith begins to rock up, then carefully back down. “Yes,” he says, propping up onto his knees, testing the leverage it brings along with it. “Yes, yes, _yes_.”

It starts slow. Painfully, mind-blowingly slow. Keith is uncertain, Lance can tell by the way he begins to move with obvious concentration, with great purpose. Working himself up and down on his cock with a devastating arch of his back, cooing praises at him, acting like it’s the greatest thing in the world.

He’s gauging, testing Lance’s reactions, staring so intently at his face that Lance has to glance away, afraid he’ll come too soon if he maintains direct eye contact. Keith’s forehead wrinkles adorably when Lance can’t help but whimper, his own cock twitching inside at the overwhelmingly sexy sight above him.

Lance didn’t expect this, this other new feeling of submitting complete control over to Keith. He can’t quite decide which he might like better, anymore. It all rolls into one, tumultuous wave of desire that has no definitive ending or beginning.

He doesn’t care how he has Keith, as long as he has him.

“Is it really good for you, too?” Keith murmurs, smoothing one gloved hand over his nipples. Pinching one, between his thumb and forefinger, until Lance cries out. “Because you feel amazing. So hot and hard inside me. Never felt this full before.”

Keith clenches impossibly tighter around him. Lance’s eyes feel like they’re going to bulge out of his head. Fuck, he’s not going to last much longer.

Lance barely registers himself nodding, managing a hoarse, “Are you kidding? Hands down, b-best thing I’ve ever felt. This is—shit, the way you’re rolling your hips alone is just—fuck, this is the greatest night of my life. I love you, I love you.”  

Keith smirks, satisfied with his answer. Then, out of nowhere, his pace changes. He drops, hard. Pulls up, achingly inch-by-inch, until Lance is moaning about as loud as he is. Lance clutches, scrambles at the sheets.

The lacy crop-top flutters with the movement, slipping further off one of Keith’s shoulders, the chains skimming cool over Lance’s overheating chest. Lance jerks wildly when their hips meet again, and that’s it—he loses control of his own. He’d wanted to wait, wanted to give Keith more time to adjust and find his own rhythm, but he can’t help but drive up into him, experimentally testing the waters.

“That’s _it_ ,” Keith practically chokes, his eyes rolling into his head as it snaps back. Exposing the sharp bob of his adam’s apple, the smooth, tempting curve of his neck. “Right there, Lance, do it again. Fuck, it’s good, it’s good.”

His neglected cock has popped out completely from the panties, keeping the skirt rucked up nicely around his hips, so he’s leaking freely upon the fabric. It gives the ideal view of the way he’s perfectly impaled in his lap, swollen and stretched wide.

Lance narrows his eyes, something possessive and all-consuming snapping him into action. Propping himself onto his elbows, he moves a hand to grip brutally into Keith’s ass, draws the other to tug over Keith’s cock. Jerking him roughly, exactly how he knows he likes it.

When Lance obliges him, thrusting as hard as he can, Keith’s abs ripple as clear waves of pleasure roll through him. His mouth falls open into a silent scream. A fiery spark flashes within his irises, and then Keith is levering one of his legs so his foot is pressed into the mattress, knee bent forward. Balancing himself with his hands bearing onto his chest, angled in a squat that gives an even clearer view of his cock pistoning in and out.

The change in position pushes them both over the edge, has them moving in pure, animalistic instinct. Lance can feel himself hit deep, deep inside Keith. He’s never wanted to be anywhere else, never wants to leave this feeling of claiming Keith, of finally having him in every way that he’s ever dreamed.

They move as one in no time, Keith rising as Lance falls back, falling as Lance rises. The filthy slap of skin on skin echoes throughout the room. Keith’s nails pinch into his skin, his cries growing louder and louder the more powerfully their hips snap together.

“Feels incredible,” Keith murmurs, nipping at his neck, screwing himself back down. Faster now, with less caution, as he gets the hang of the motion. “Your cock, so much thicker, better than my fingers.”

The way Keith has leaned over to mottle marks onto him is scissoring his legs further apart, giving Lance greater range, allowing him to ram his pelvis hard up into him. Keith sinks his teeth into his collarbone, howling against him.

“Oh yeah?”

Lance thrusts up, kneading Keith’s ass, trying to keep his strokes even over his weeping cock. When he grinds the slick tip into the silken hem of the skirt, Keith’s entire body convulses.

It’s difficult, though, to do so many things at once, to concentrate on more than just his absolute desire to completely wreck Keith’s ass. So his fingers stall over his cock, and he decides to grip Keith’s hip instead, to focus on keeping a good rhythm in fucking him.

“Tell me everything, baby,” Lance demands, “Keep telling me how good you feel.”

“I can—I can feel you throbbing inside, like—” Keith pauses to fling his head back again. His hair is soaked with sweat and clinging to his forehead in a mess of curls, his cheeks flushed with arousal and exertion. “Too deep, stuffed full. Can’t think.”

“Shit, Keith,” Lance groans.

Keith is going to kill him. He’s going to kill him, right here, right now, while he’s balls deep inside of him.

Lance immediately regrets getting carried away and asking him, because he can feel how his gut churns with heat, climbing towards that end. He staves it off for as long as he can, trying to focus on anything but the wet slide of his cock and Keith sucking him in so perfectly.

But Keith must be hellbent on making him cum first. Everything is too much—the sweetness of Keith’s skin as he drags his tongue across his tensed, bared stomach, how tight he is despite how hard he’s tearing into him, the snag of lace and silk brushing over him as Keith rocks back and forth, bouncing in his lap as if in a trance now.

“Fuck me, Lance,” he pleads, his pupils so blown that they’ve all but swallowed any remaining color. “Fuck me until I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I want to—I want it to feel like you’re still inside me, want to feel that ache in my thighs all day. Want to think about it non-stop while we’re training, while we’re fighting and forming Voltron and—ah, there, there, yeah!”

Something in Lance snaps. Without another thought, he switches their positions, uncaring about whether he’ll hit that mark or not. Because it’s obvious by the way Keith yelps, by the way his breathing is tumbling harshly out of him, that he’s _close, close, close_.

And Lance is intent on making him _beg, writhe, cum_.

Keith curses with the new weight set upon him, and Lance parts his legs, pulling one up to his shoulder, ankle at his ear. Hoping, that this will be enough to satisfy him.

He seems to more than like it. “Want you to fill me up,” he’s whining, eyes screwing shut, “Please, please, fill me up.”

The blue light of the ship flashes over his face intermittently as Lance moves mercilessly in and out. Light, dark, light, dark. Shadows of color and rays of light painting him another breathtaking picture. Keith is screaming now, the sound of which will probably ring in his ears for the next few days, and Lance could care fuck all at that point if anyone hears.

“Harder, harder, c’mon,” Keith goads, despite the position he’s in. “Seriously, is that the best you can do?”

By the way he’s clenching harder than ever, by the increase in his unrestrained sounds, Lance knows for a fact that Keith is feeling a lot better than he’s letting on with his words. An angrier motivation takes over him, and he lets loose of all inhibitions like Keith wants him to, letting go of the thought that he could possibly hurt him when he’s being given the green light to do whatever he can to get him to shut up.

“Cocky shit. You’re going to feel this for a lot longer than just a day,” Lance growls, picking up even more speed until the bed is rocking, shaking underneath them, “Every time you sit down, every time you move, you’ll be thinking of me. Thinking of nothing but me, fucking you like you deserve.”

He can barely believe the words that are leaving his lips, but this must be what he needed in a sense, to grow that confidence. To make Keith fall apart, to watch the way he’s finally letting him in and coming undone because of his hands.

Yeah, he could get used to this whole ‘being in charge’ thing.

That familiar gasp heaves out of Keith. That breathless one tinged with need, which Lance only hears when he’s right on that beautiful edge. His hands scramble for his back, wrapping his other leg around him tight. “I’m gonna, fuck—Lance, I’m gonna—”

Lance grazes his teeth over his fluttering pulse, presses a bruising kiss over his mouth. When he pulls away, he whispers, “I got you, Keith, I got you.”  

With one last rough thrust, Keith’s entire body goes rigid.

“Love it,” Keith stutters, and then he’s spilling over his stomach, spilling onto the skirt. Grinning in his euphoria, and then the words, “L-love you,” are dancing off his loose lips.

It’s the first time Lance has ever heard him say it outright. He immediately follows with a groan, hips stuttering disjointedly, light bursting behind his eyelids.

He fills him up, like Keith requested, and then some. Overstimulated, Keith is whining at the sensation, and his cock feebly spurts a few more drops before it droops over, completely spent.

Lance’s vision blurs. Trying to calm down from the high of it all, it takes him a few moments to get his hips to slow and taper off, and then a few more to gather the strength to pull out.

He wants to memorize the image before him, forever.

Keith, dazed and completely fucked out, drowsily smirking at him. Completely disheveled in every sense of the word—hair sticking up like it’s been through a tornado, crop top wrinkled and sticking to him with sweat, skirt dotted with cum and fanned out around him, blossoming hickies surrounding the choker on his neck.

On his back with his legs spread like they were made to stay open for him, Lance wishes he had a camera. At least then he could capture the cum dripping down his thighs, running in thick rivulets over those ripped, ruined stockings.

“Oh, god,” Lance collapses next to him, “That’s it, you’ve killed me. I’m dead.”

Keith’s laugh is warm and soft at his ear. Lance feels his lips press against his temple, and he smiles, curling up into Keith’s side. Wrapping his arms around him, relishing in the fact Keith is actually allowing him to cuddle for once.

They’re a tangle of messy, sweaty limbs, heaving chests and panting breaths. Lance feels his eyelids growing heavier, clutching Keith closer to his chest, fingers stringing through his damp hair. He’s on the brink of unconsciousness when a high-pitched buzzing noise has him fully attentive again.

“What the...what the hell is that?” Lance grunts, snuggling his face further into Keith’s hair to try and block out the sound.

Much to his disappointment, Keith rolls away, reaching for something in the dark. There’s a gentle click, and the buzzing stops. Lance doesn’t really care for explanations right now, too tired to bother, but when he tries to pull Keith back to him, Keith only laughs. It has a strange sharp edge to it, so Lance forces his eyes back open.

There’s the sound of clothes slipping from skin, the snapping of spandex-like material being peeled off. Lance squints through the darkness, appreciating the faint view he can make of Keith finally stripping himself of his outfit.

“Mmm, very nice.” Lance pushes himself up on his elbows, yawning, but still totally up for whatever Keith has in mind. “Preparing for round two already? I knew you couldn’t get enough of me, babe.”

Keith chuckles like a clatter of exasperated knives. “Hell no, I’m tired as fuck.”

Lance blanches, and then a mound of lacy things are being thrown in his face. He can barely make out the glint of white, white teeth grinning triumphantly at him.

Keith leans in so Lance can get a proper view of his smug, smirking face. “That was the timer, idiot, which means I wore this shitty thing for _one whole day_. I won.”

Curling up into his side, Keith nudges Lance’s now rigid arm until Lance realizes what he wants and numbly wraps it around him. He can feel Keith’s grin pressed firmly against his skin. Lance’s heart sinks deep, deep into his chest.

“So now, it’s your turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Lance did end up wearing the outfit on his mission with Shiro (after he washed it bc yea that’d be gross as is. The stockings didn’t quite make it tho). I’m so sorry, Shiro...
> 
>  
> 
> I haven’t got a good excuse for why this took so long to update. Better late than never, I guess lmao. Thank you all for your encouraging comments though, that’s what got me finally deciding to finish this :) 


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